


Conflict of Interest

by EllisLuie



Series: Lost and Found [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe?, David Rossi's son, Gen, James Rossi, Morgan & Reid friendship, Morgan and Reid bromance, Reid is Rossi's son, Son!Reid, Team Dynamics, Team Feels, Team as Family, dad!Rossi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2018-12-01 21:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllisLuie/pseuds/EllisLuie
Summary: It's been a year since Reid and Rossi discovered their relationship to each other, and after a rocky start, things seem to be going well. They've been able to successfully work several cases, enough to get the FBI and press off their backs, but that all changes when the team takes a new case in Seattle. Turns out neither of them are quite as skilled at compartmentalizing as they thought. It's hard to be professional when one or both of them are in danger.





	1. Prologue

 

Spencer can hear his heart beating loudly in his chest. It’s irregular and heavy, reacting to the panic that’s trying to crawl its way up his throat, but Spencer ruthlessly pushes it down. He can’t deal with it, not now. To open that door would mean not being able to close it again, and he needs privacy for that kind of breakdown.

Instead, he focuses on his breathing. Deep inhale, steady exhale. He watches Hotch out of the corner of his eye, matching his breaths to his boss’s. He ignores the tension in Hotch’s shoulders, ignores the deep lines etched into the man’s face. Noticing anything other than the man’s practiced, steady breathing would mean facing up to everything Spencer’s currently trying to hide from.

“Agent Reid,” a heavy, regretful voice says. “You have been a great asset to the FBI for several years now, and no one wishes to change that. Your skillset is far too impressive to lose quite so easily. However, we cannot ignore this latest mishap. Frankly, if any other agent had acted the way you did in Seattle, they wouldn’t still be in this building.”

“Director,” Hotch cuts in, “Agent Reid is well aware of the mistakes that were made, but he shouldn’t be held solely accountable for –”

“For three agents being put in the hospital, two of which from your own team?”

Hotch falls quiet, and Spencer finds it hard to meet anyone’s eyes.

The director sighs and rubs his chin, peering at them with a troubled frown. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Spencer. But I’m afraid my hands are tied. When everything came out last year concerning you and Agent Rossi, you both swore it wouldn’t change the dynamic of the team. Against all regulation and common sense, I trusted you would all be able to handle the situation. It hasn’t even been a full year, yet here you are again in my office. I really am sorry, but there’s nothing I can do.”

Without even having to look at him, Spencer can feel Hotch gearing up to argue. Mildly surprised to find his hand steady, he quickly silences his boss with a restraining hand on the shoulder, ignoring the narrowed eyes Hotch sends him in askance.

“I understand,” Spencer says, taking a deep breath to squelch the panic. “You have to do your job. With the way you were talking, I assume I’m not fired?” He ignores the way his voice threatens to give out on the last word, relieved when no one else mentions it either.

A muscle twitches in Hotch’s jaw, but Spencer deems it safe enough to withdraw his hand from his boss’s shoulder. He resists the urge to thread his hands together in his lap, settling for the armrests of his chair. If his knuckles turn white from his grip, well, that’s his business.

“Trust me, no one is happy about this,” the director assures. “You work well with the BAU, Spencer, anyone can see that. But we can’t remove Agent Rossi without immediate media backlash, and I doubt anyone wants him to re-enter retirement. You’ve been reassigned to a different team. Outside the BAU.”

It’s not unexpected news. He and Hotch had discussed the possibility in depth before the meeting, and even before that last year. A small part of Spencer is frankly astonished it’s taken this long to happen. Even still, hearing it out loud and finalised is too much of a shock to Spencer’s system. With a shaky breath, the panic that’s been brewing in his chest for the past two weeks finally overwhelms him.

Spencer Reid is leaving the BAU.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget to mention, this story won't make a whole lot of sense if you haven't read the first in the series, Wrong Life. If you haven't read it, basically all you need to know is that Reid is Rossi's son. He was kidnapped when he was four, and Conflict of Interest takes place a year after they find out they're related.

The light from the windows is far too bright. Surely the sun isn’t usually this blinding so early in the morning?

“First hangover? I’m proud.”

Despite the ache in his head, Spencer cracks open his eyes in order to properly glare at the man across from him. David’s leaning against the kitchen counter, looking unbearably smug and insultingly robust this morning. He’s already dressed in a neat button-down shirt and jeans, put together with absolutely no sign of the same queasiness that’s currently gripping Spencer’s stomach.

“No,” Spencer groans, pushing himself up from the couch. “Not the first. But I wasn’t expecting how strong your alcohol is.” He pulls a face and sways a little bit before he manages to push the sick feeling away. “I don’t really do this very often.”

David grins toothily. “Lightweight,” he observes, thoughtfully nudging a mug of coffee towards Spencer. “With my genes, I thought you’d be able to handle it.”

It’s a risk, but David’s rewarded when Spencer only shoots him a dirty look. The man’s too focussed on the mug before him to care about much else, and David counts it in his favour.

“It’s your fault,” Spencer grumbles unhappily in between gulps of coffee. It isn’t quite as sweet as he usually takes it, since David’s recently taken to flat out refusing to indulge him with it, but it’s enough to tide him over. “I wasn’t even supposed to stay the night. You’re the one who insisted I stay until I missed the bus.”

David waves a dismissive hand. “If you want to blame someone, blame Aaron. He’s the one who bought me the scotch. I told you the bus wasn’t necessary; you’re more than welcome to stay the night, anytime.”

Spencer doesn’t deign that with an answer, choosing instead to devote his attention to the coffee. David shakes his head with a knowing smirk, but eventually turns away to leave Spencer in peace. He heads straight to the fridge to start pulling out food, presumably for breakfast, and Spencer takes the chance to glance at his watch. He groans.

“Hotch is going to kill us,” he bemoans. “We’re already half an hour late. I haven’t been late to work in _years_.”

Unfazed, David doesn’t pause. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Hotch will appreciate the extra time taken to sober you up.” He glances over his shoulder and grins at Spencer’s dark look. “Besides, he offered me the day off anyway, and he included you in the offer. We can afford to be late.”

Not comforted, Spencer frowns into his mug. To further salt the wounds, his phone chooses to go off, beeping with a familiar tone. Hastily digging the phone out of his pocket, Spencer sends a panicked look at David before answering.

“Hey Hotch,” he says, and sees David still in front of the stove. “Yeah, he’s here. I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize – ”

David swivels around and takes the phone from Spencer’s hand, raising an eyebrow as Spencer opens his mouth to protest. “Aaron,” he says smoothly. “No, we’ll be there in about an hour. Alright, forty minutes. Oh, come on, you know the kid’s already got all that done, and I never do it anyway. Tell Morgan to do it. Okay, see you soon.”

Turning back to the stove, David pulls the phone away from his ear and sets it on the counter beside him. Spencer makes a noise of protest, but doesn’t move to retrieve it.

“I was thinking eggs,” David says conversationally. “It’ll be quick. You can oversee the toast.”

Spencer scowls at the other man’s back. “Hotch,” he starts.

“Can wait. They’re just finishing up reports. Besides, humor an old man, would you?”

Spencer huffs, but slinks over to the bread cupboard without further comment.

\--

Morgan whistles when they finally make their way into the bullpen.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases, seated on top of the desk next to Blake’s. “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

Spencer frowns at him as he dumps his bag at his own desk. “Hotch in his office?” he asks.

“Nah, he’s with JJ. Been there since he called you looking for his wayward agents,” Morgan says. He pauses and narrows his eyes, studying Spencer closely. “Hang on – You gotta headache again, Reid?”

Blake looks up at that, sharing in his scrutiny. Spencer shifts uncomfortably and refuses to meet their eyes.

David clears his throat. “I’ll handle Hotch,” he promises Spencer, clapping him on the shoulder. “You just try to find some Advil. Remember, drink plenty of water to clear up that hangover.” He winks at him with a sly grin, and suddenly Reid has the strongest urge to throttle him. Before he can contemplate that further, David’s gone.

Almost scared to look, Spencer slowly turns to face the other two.

Morgan looks gleeful, Blake just faintly amused. Spencer regrets ever leaving David’s couch.

“Things get a little wild last night, huh?” Morgan says, grinning. “Please, feel free to share.”

 Refusing to humor him, Spencer pointedly pulls out his chair. Most of his paperwork is already finished, but he doesn’t mind digging up the stray report if it means ensuring Morgan gets the hint. He is, however, never that lucky, and he should really know that by now.

Morgan simply slips off the desk he’s claimed as a seat and stalks over to Spencer, looking far too smug for the genius’s peace of mind.

“C’mon, man, give me something. It’s a fight just to get you to come out with the team after a case, and I’ve only ever gotten to see you drunk twice.”

That’s a blatant lie, but Spencer’s grateful that his friend’s chosen to leave out the third and fourth time, after Maeve.

“At least tell me how Rossi managed to get you out and drinking. Did you meet anyone?” Morgan wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Spencer forgets himself enough to shoot a disgusted look his way. “Don’t look at me like that, pretty boy. Since you won’t tell me anything, I’ll just have to make my own conclusions. I’m sure Penelope will be more than happy to help me out.”

That’s a threat if Spencer’s ever heard one. Sadly, he knows it isn’t an idle one. Considering his options, it’s with grim resignation that he decides to go for the path of least resistance.

“We didn’t go anywhere,” he sighs. “It was just me and Dave. I was only supposed to be there for a few hours, just for dinner and to give him his gift, but then he brought out the alcohol, and… it’s a little blurry after that.”

Morgan doesn’t even bother to try and hide his laugh. He looks ready to ask more questions, but to Spencer’s relief, Garcia makes her grand entrance and interrupts.

“Good morning, my heroes,” she says chipperly. “Reid! There you are. If you were any later, I was going to have to resort to desperate measures, no matter what our brave leader said. Which reminds me, you should really disable the GPS on your phone, boy wonder.”

Spencer pauses. “Uh, can you show me how to do that?”

Garcia just smiles at him indulgently. “Sorry, Reid, but it’ll have to be some other time. JJ’s expecting me, and I’d hate to keep her waiting.” She blows Morgan a kiss and wink, then heads off.

“Woman, you wound me! My poor heart feels all abandoned,” Morgan calls after her. Spencer rolls his eyes and takes the chance to focus back on his paper work. This time, Morgan heaves a displeased sigh but relents, muttering unkind things as he moves away. Eventually he goes upstairs, presumably to do his own paperwork, and Spencer relaxes.

He and Blake work in silence for a few hours, only occasionally exchanging remarks on their reports. She doesn’t ask about Spencer’s night or his hangover, doesn’t speak of anything except work, and Spencer is grateful. He finishes before her, but doesn’t get up to leave. Instead, he lounges back in his chair and asks Blake if she wants to work on a crossword.

David’s the one down the stairs to fetch them. “Case,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he sees them huddled together in front of Blake’s computer. “Hotch wants us ready to go within the hour.”

\--

“Four men have been strangled and left in public parks around Seattle in the past two weeks,” Garcia says. “Charles Mighten, 42, was the last victim, killed just thirteen hours ago.” She brings up a picture of a spectacularly average, white, middle-aged man, as well as his accompanying crime scene. “Before him, there was Jimmy Bugle, Harry Yu, and Samuel Haynes. All men in their forties or fifties, all caught on their way home from work, killed and dumped within hours.” More pictures follow her words on the screen.

“What’s that mark on their chest?” JJ asks, pointing a pen towards the picture of Haynes’ body. Just above his heart, just like the other three victims, is a small mark. Garcia hurriedly zooms in and brings it into better focus.

The same symbol is cut into all four victims’ chests. The cuts aren’t deep, and are in fact rather small, but are obviously made with intent and a steady hand. A crude heart with a crown over top it, with what looks like either hands or wings on the sides.

“I think it’s the Claddagh symbol,” Spencer says, studying it. “It’s a Celtic love symbol,” he elaborates. “It’s a very crude version, but it looks like the same symbol commonly used for rings, particularly in Ireland. The hands are supposed to represent friendship or unity, although that originated in the Roman era with fede rings, not Claddagh – but the crown’s for loyalty, and the heart, well, that’s for love.”

The rest of the team frowns at this new information, flipping through the files in front of them.

“Any idea why this symbol would be left on the victims? What’s the significance?” Morgan asks.

JJ shakes her head. “Local police don’t have any leads. There haven’t been any witnesses, and the bodies were all left on display in the parks. No prints, no video footage, nothing to point towards a suspect. Nothing to even connect the victims. As far as anybody can tell, they didn’t know each other, and they don’t have anything in common.”

“With such public dump sites, the local police are eager to close the case as fast as possible,” Hotch says. “They’ve managed to stop people from panicking, but they won’t be able to hold it off forever. The UnSub could strike again in a matter of days, so we need to head out soon. I want everyone out at the jet in forty minutes. We can look over the files further in the air.”

The table clears fast, the whole team far too used to the routine to dawdle. Garcia watches as the team heads off to grab their go bags, and Spencer pauses just long enough to give her a reassuring smile. As she smiles back, he wonders if she feels the same unease as he does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First year university has been ridiculously busy, which is why I haven't been able to update. Almost done for summer, though, so fingers crossed. Here's (part of) a chapter that has been sitting on my computer for ages. I decided to update with it now just to assure everyone that I am still kicking and planning to continue the story. It will just take longer than my original optimistic estimates.

**Chapter Two**

Spencer manages to snag the window seat next to JJ on the jet. She gives him a good-natured bump on the shoulder as he shuffles past her legs, but he stays firmly on course and she settles in easily enough beside him. Morgan and Blake crowd in on the other side of their table, with Morgan obnoxiously shoving his feet towards Spencer’s legs.

The behaviour is nothing new, and Spencer hardly even notices it anymore. However, as he looks up from his phone, having sent a last, vital email before shutting it off for the flight, the sudden intensity of Morgan’s gaze takes him off guard. Shifting uneasily, Spencer hastens to shove his phone in his pocket. Guilt eats at him, but he evades Morgan’s eyes and instead opens the file in front of him. Something tells him Morgan will be cornering him later anyway.

“The bruising around the victims’ necks,” Spencer says, ignoring Morgan’s concern for a moment. “It’s not consistent with handprints.”

“No,” JJ’s the first to agree. “ME says the bruising points towards a belt or strap of some kind. The edges cut into the skin of the last two victims, so the UnSub must be getting more comfortable using force, but the windpipe was crushed in all four cases.”

“It takes a lot of strength and force to strangle someone bare-handed,” Blake says. “So the UnSub isn’t exceptionally strong.”

“Strong enough,” Morgan counters.

“All four victims lived only a few blocks from the parks where their bodies were discovered,” David adds. “Dump sites could be more of a convenience than a statement. They’re very public for the usual dump sites, but the first two were small and under renovation, so there would have been less risk of the UnSub being seen. The last two were bigger, but hardly the pride and joy of their communities.”

“But all four bodies were dumped in the middle of the day, in broad daylight,” JJ says. “Maybe the parks weren’t very popular, but there had to have been someone around. Our UnSub was either very lucky or planned everything out extraordinarily well. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had outside help, to distract anyone in the park at the time.”

They fall silent, absorbing that for a minute. Blake breaks it after studying the files once more. “If the UnSub is working with a partner, it won’t take much for the relationship to go south. From the MO, it looks like only one of them is doing the actual killing, and my guess is that it’s the dominant of the two. If the other one acts up in some way or does something the UnSub doesn’t like, I doubt it’ll end well.”

“If that happens, there’s no telling what the UnSub will do next. He might decide to cut his losses and go to a different city. We better find him before that happens. We have another five hours before we land, so I suggest you all familiarize yourselves with the case files and work on a rudimentary profile,” Hotch directs. “JJ, call the local police department and tell them we’re en route and see if we can arrange immediate interviews with the people who discovered the bodies. I’ll call Garcia and get a list of potential dump sites in the area, so we can talk to the police captain about extra surveillance in the areas. Four men in two weeks means we can’t take any chances.”

With that, Hotch settles back into his seat and brings out his phone, mirrored by JJ. Everyone else falls on the files in front of them, and the plane is silent other than Hotch and JJ’s murmured conversations.

Until Spencer’s phone rings.

Immediately fumbling for it, Spencer shoots an apologetic look at everyone’s upturned eyebrow. He blanches at the caller ID and scoots past JJ’s legs again to reach the unoccupied end of the plane. Hotch looks like he’s about to protest, but Spencer gestures that he will explain later, and that, coupled with the pleading look he sends his boss’s way, seems to make Hotch reconsider. Grateful, Spencer slips away and answers quietly.

“Hey, Deborah,” he says, turning his back on the team. “I just sent an email – yeah. Okay. Um, listen, I’m actually leaving for work right now, so could you just send me – yes, thank you. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you so much. Just tell her – I’ll write. Okay. Thanks.”

Spencer turns around to blatant staring. Blake, at least, has the decency to look only mildly interested.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “Uh, just a – It won’t happen again. JJ, did you, uh, did you call the police department?”

To Spencer’s relief, they all seem to get the hint and turn away. He knows he’ll have to have a word with Hotch when they land, but for now the man doesn’t seem too upset by the interruption. Spencer starts to make his way back to his seat as JJ answers, but pauses briefly on his way past David.

“Everything alright, kid?” David asks quietly.

Spencer hesitates. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, all good.”

Frowning, David lets him go and Spencer ducks his head on his way back to his seat. Morgan’s gaze is heavier than ever on his shoulders, but Spencer just buries himself in the files and slouches in his seat. Morgan still manages to catch his eye as Spencer gives the cabin a nervous lookover.

“Later,” Morgan mouths, expression clearly saying there is no room for negotiation. Trapped, Spencer just nods helplessly.

The rest of the plane ride is silent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... am sorry. I can't believe how long it's been. I can't promise there won't be another big wait between chapters, but I'm trying. School is hard.

The team arrives at the police station to little fanfare. They receive the usual stares and whispers, but the captain is welcoming enough and directs them to an area that will become their base of operations.

Not wasting any time, Morgan takes the first chance he gets to corner Spencer.

“Alright, Reid, out with it,” he says, closing the door of an empty office behind them. “Something’s up with you, I can tell. Are you still having those dreams?”

Irritated, Spencer adopts a defensive stance and turns away. “No – I mean, yes, but that’s not the point. I can handle those now, I told you. It’s getting better.”

Disbelieving, Morgan scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Look, man, you know I’m always here if you want to talk, and I don’t mind the late-night calls, you know that. But I just think things might be easier if you told Rossi what’s going on. He’s got to suspect something; you haven’t exactly been looking your best lately. We’re worried, Reid, the whole team.”

“You haven’t said anything, have you?” Spencer asks sharply, shoulders bunching.

“Of course not,” Morgan says firmly. “I wouldn’t do that. But don’t you think Rossi deserves to know? He’s spent the last several months thinking you don’t remember anything, and I get it, but he should know – ”

“Know what?” Spencer interrupts. “That I’m having stupid nightmares about Michaels? That I _might_ be dreaming about my time there, but that it also might just be my imagination? What is he going to think, Morgan? How can it possibly help either of us? I, we, have been trying to build something, okay, some kind of relationship out of this mess, and it has been hard enough as it is without adding this – this _crap_!”

Knowing when to stop pushing, Morgan pauses. “Okay,” he says slowly. “I still don’t agree, but that’s your choice. But if it isn’t the dreams that’s bothering you, what is it? Don’t tell me nothing, I can tell when you’re lying.”

But it’s too late. Spencer is angry more than anything, and Morgan can see him shutting down in front of him. He isn’t surprised when Spencer refuses to answer and instead pushes past him for the door, but he still reaches to catch the younger man’s elbow.

“I mean it, Reid,” he says seriously. “You can talk to me. Or someone. Anyone.”

A conflicted look crosses Spencer’s face and he turns towards Morgan, body language a little less defensive. But any chance of him sharing goes out the window at a timid knock on the door, immediately followed by a police officer ducking his head inside the room.

“Hi, sorry to bother you,” he says quickly, looking between them nervously. “It’s just, I follow the BAU’s cases and I just want to meet – Oh. Uh, is this a bad time?”

“No,” Spencer says firmly, brushing past Morgan. “Excuse me,” he says, ducking past the officer out into the hall. The officer, however, follows him.

“You’re Special Agent Reid, right?” he says, eagerly dogging Spencer’s steps. “I’m a huge fan. Not that I – I mean – Well, I know all about your career and your team’s cases and I just have to say, I really admire you. And the rest of the BAU, of course, but I’ve met everyone else – well, kind of – and I just wanted to make sure I met you since the captain told us you were here but you weren’t with the others and – ”

Spencer spins on his heel to face the man, startling him into losing his footing. Sheepishly, the man stops two steps away and scratches his neck.

“Listen, officer…?” Spencer prods, trying very hard to remain polite.

“Paulsen,” the man provides.

“Officer Paulsen,” Spencer repeats. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of myself and my team. In fact, if you’d like, I can give you my email address and we can discuss things further after my team has finished this case, if you’d be interested in that. Right now, I’m afraid we’re very busy,” he says pointedly.

Paulsen flushes but straightens his back. “That would be great,” he says. “Thank you so much. It’s just, after that whole thing last year, I’ve been really fascinated by you and Agent Rossi. To have the chance to speak to you about it – ”

“Wait, what?” Spencer interrupts, suddenly off kilter. “No, that’s not what I - ”

“Reid, inside,” Hotch says, beckoning him from the doorway of the office where the team has set up.

Feeling untethered and a little lost, Spencer nods to his boss and turns back to Paulsen with a guarded expression.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you,” the officer says. “We can talk later though, yeah? You’ll have to tell me all about getting to know your dad!” Before Spencer can do anything other than gape, Officer Paulsen slips away, leaving Spencer with no choice but to join his team.

\--

“All four victims were from different areas of the city, worked in completely different fields, had no intersecting interests other than Bugle and Haynes’ mediocre golfing passions – which, by the way, is a dead end, as they didn’t even buy their clubs from the same places,” Garcia tells them, twirling a pen between her fingers. “I’m digging, my sweets, but other than some shared bus routes I’m not coming up with much.”

“Keep trying,” Hotch says. “There has to be something that connects the four men. The UnSub felt strongly enough about them to exert effort into carving love symbols into their chests, so they must have known each other. No one noticed anything suspicious the night the men were taken and killed, which suggests the UnSub knew their routines well enough to predict their movements.”

Nodding, Garcia wiggles her fingers and signs off. “Will do, boss man.”

Rossi sighs and flicks through his tablet, bringing up a cropped image of the bloody symbol carved into the third victim’s chest. “Reid, tell me again about this symbol. It’s supposed to be for love, right? So are we looking for a romantic partner, a crime of passion?”

“Possibly,” Spencer says slowly. We know there must have been something to inspire the kind of rage this would take. But the UnSub isn’t disorganized, which suggests it isn’t passion-fuelled, which I would think rules out a personal relationship between victim and UnSub.”

“It’s a route to explore,” Hotch says. “I’ll get Garcia to look into past relationships of the victims and see if there’s any correlation. JJ, Morgan, I want you to check out the latest crime scene and see why there weren’t any witnesses. Blake, talk to the officers, see if they have anything we don’t. Reid – ”

“Actually, Hotch,” Spencer interrupts, suddenly tense. Everyone turns to look at him, but he studiously ignores them. “Can I talk to you about something quickly?”

After a moment’s pause, Hotch nods. “JJ, Morgan, head out. Rossi, call Garcia and explore the romantic angle. Reid, with me.” He inclines his head towards the door and Spencer dutifully follows him into the hall. Thankfully, it is quiet and empty, and Spencer feels some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Spencer waits until JJ and Morgan pass by, Morgan giving him a raised eyebrow – to which Spencer turns away with a tight jaw – and Hotch looks on with silent question.

“There’s an Officer Paulsen who approached me earlier,” Spencer says, voice low. “He seems nice but – he says he followed everything last year, with Dave and I. It’s just, everything was supposed to be kept quiet and mostly out of the media, and I know there was some stuff that we couldn’t silence completely, but I’d prefer if neither Dave or I were left alone with him. He’s very… excitable.”

Hotch thinks for a minute, eyes dark and searching, but Spencer isn’t overly worried. “Alright,” Hotch finally says. “I agree, I don’t want this Officer Paulsen interfering with the case or distracting my agents. It isn’t appropriate for him to accost either you or Rossi about your relationship, and I’ll make sure to keep you two away from him. I’ll mention it to the chief, as well.”

Spencer nods. “Thank you.”

“That being said, Reid, is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Spencer stills, carefully averting his eyes from his boss. He hopes his annoyance isn’t blatantly clear, but he doesn’t hold out much hope. “About?” he asks carefully.

Hotch gives him a pointed look. “The phone call on the plane,” he reminds. “You’ve been distant, on edge lately. We’ve all noticed. I respect your privacy, but you know we don’t want our personal lives to interfere with cases. If there is something, you can tell me. Or Dave, if you prefer.”

Spencer’s instinctual reaction is to argue, but he knows that won’t help his case. “It’s nothing,” he says evenly instead. “Trust me. If it gets to the point where I can’t handle it, I’ll mention it. I promise.”

Hotch nods. “Good. I was going to get you to go help Blake, but I want to keep you away from the officers until I speak to the chief about Paulsen. Instead, go talk to Rossi and Garcia about the symbol, tell them everything you know and build a theory.”

He doesn’t give Spencer a chance to argue, though he doesn’t try. Hotch leaves to find the chief, and Spencer hovers outside the door to the office, reluctant to go in and face Rossi. He trusts the other man and genuinely likes the way their relationship has been building since last year, but he really doesn’t want to have to lie to three people in one afternoon. If he’s very lucky, Rossi may take the hint and leave him alone.

Steeling himself, Spencer pushes the door to the office open and slinks inside, noting the way David looks up and runs a searching gaze over him before turning back to the phone. Garcia is on speaker, and the clacking of her keyboard keys is audible.

Relieved, Spencer idles over to the table beside David and tunes in.

“All four of our victims were married men, two of them with children,” Garcia’s saying. “I don’t see anything to suggest the wives knew each other or the other victims, but I can keep looking.”

“Do that, Garcia,” David says. “Send us the information for Charles Mighten’s wife and we’ll pay her a visit. There has to be something to this romantic angle. Reid, you want to come talk to her? I can take Hotch.”

Grateful for the out anyway, Spencer shakes his head. “I’ll come,” he says. “I want to see if she knows anything about the Claddagh symbol, and Hotch is busy talking to the chief.”

Raising a curious eyebrow, David refrains from asking, though Spencer is sure there is a conversation awaiting Hotch when the man is free.

Both their phones buzz with a message from Garcia.

“Let’s head out,” David says, grabbing the keys to the car offered to them by the station and gesturing for Spencer to lead the way. “See what Mrs. Mighten has to say.”

 

 


End file.
